Our Crusade
by RiptideZ
Summary: When Ginza was attacked, the United Nations reacted in shock. A task force was established to bring this new enemy to justice. For many, it looked like another Nine-Eleven. Others looked at it like the beginning of a new era for Mankind. 2016 - The UN declared war on the Saderan Empire. For its warriors, this was our crusade into the Unkown. GATE Roleplay Novelization.
1. A Date of Infamy

Our Crusade is a work developed among countless members of the GATE community that have taken part in the Roleplay led by the efforts of Faust1812.

Respect goes out to all the participants and I couldn't have started this novelization without their support and help. I'm RiptideZ, the real-life counterpart to Lieutenant Commander Andrew Blackburn, I have served as a moderator under the guidance of Faust1812 for the last few months as the group has hashed out over ten thousand posts of content. We have somewhere between twenty and thirty contributors, I could be wrong about that but I digress – this novelization was made possible by them and because of them.

Thanks for all the support. The way these chapters will come out will be created when I find the time and will likely be posted around the same time chapters for Homestead are released. This isn't the story of Itami, though he has a major influence in later chapters, this is the story about the Special Region Task Force, the United Nations unit that responded to the atrocities committed by the Empire from beyond the Gateway. This is the story of all of us, this is the story of Mankind's march into the unknown. This is Our Crusade.

Please remember to read, review, and contribute feedback. Hey, even join us. We're currently working on the Diet chapter. One of our main principles is realism, we love authenticity and it is the measure of both this novelization and the RP itself that we affirm we seek a decent measure of how the real world might respond. Thanks again.

Another note as well, the contributors for this chapter can be found at the bottom of the post. This chapter specifically is only half of the twelve posts that make up our first RP Topic, "Pre-Deployment." It takes place right as the Ginza attack occurs.

…

 **Welcome to "Our Crusade," a non-profit fan-produced fiction product under the ownership of set penname: RiptideZ.**

 **DISCLAIMER: All intellectual property revealed in this work belongs to their rightful owner(s). RiptideZ, the author, owns only that of his intellectual assets. Please Read and Critique constructively via private messaging or review.**

 ***In the special circumstance that this is a shared effort between the GATE communities, RiptideZ only owns the creation born from the source material, both the community and the original GATE story. Everything else belongs to the actual contributors.**

…

 **["A Date of Infamy"]**

 **[Summer 2016]**

…

 _ **"Yesterday, December Seventh, Nineteen Forty-one, a date which will live in infamy – the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan."**_ **– President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Pearl Harbor Address, December 7, 1941**

…

The sky was sunny and bright. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the deep blue only inspired people to get out of the house and the office and to enjoy their lives. Tokyo City was abuzz with life and at the center of it all were a select few individuals going about their lives.

One of these individuals was a simplistic man with a drilled core and the body of an unbroken soldier. He dressed in an orange tee shirt with an athletic brand and wore some weathered cargo shorts that came just below his kneecaps. He carried his phone in hand, playing away at his mobile games and had no care for the world. In the next hours, he would be seen as a hero and in a matter of minutes, he would be bloodied on the field of battle for the first time in his life.

In another time and another vision, he could have been the main character of this tale but this isn't his story – this is the tale of others, a tale of an army without anyone flag and without any one creed or interest. This is a story of a race of warriors that came from all walks of life and all forms of expression, they are many and all heroes in their own way. They come from many different lands and have different life experiences but from these moments forward, their vision is the same – to seek justice for the lives that were lost on this date which will live in infamy.

The journey begins with a young man marching his way down the wooden path that his family elders had marched in their own youth. He wore the clothes of his elders and he marched like them.

This was Toshiro Kenja, dressed in the ceremonial robes of his ancestors and holding his wood bokken, a kendo training blade, in a resting position under his arm. The son of a somewhat wealthy merchant family dating back to Meiji Restoration, it was tradition for the men of prominent clans to learn the ancient arts of the Japanese people – including the Way of the Warrior, "bushido" though its more extreme tones had been relaxed as modern Japan came to replace the old Empire.

Toshiro's approach was not met with silence, but rather the hard thwacks of wood meeting wood and the echoes of human grunts as fighters dueled it out within the air-conditioned dojo that belonged to Toshiro's family. From the view of the open paper door, Toshiro could make out a family elder training a pair of young, former pupils in the art of Japanese sword techniques. The trio were masters of their craft and their technique and strength were clear as their strikes were fluid and continuous.

To the untrained eye, the sword fight could be described as a dance rather than a battle.

One pupil sliced out with a horizontal slash to force the elder back while the other youth came down with a solid, vertical strike. Both strikes were blocked and absorbed as the elder master blocked the strikes with a slight horizontal clash that came in with an acute angle and another block with the palm to the fashioned hilt.

Joining into the frenzy of flying wood, Toshiro charged the two younger men with animalistic ferocity and a mighty roar that shook the heavens that were the ceiling of the dojo. He swung twice with quick, methodical strikes to the upper abdomen of the adversaries to the Elder and ending the clash with a surprise attack.

The former pupils were quickly pacified as their fellow youngster supported the Elder with a surprise assault. There was no complaints, no murmurs of a sore loser or an unsatisfied warrior but simply the militaristic tradition of four well-trained and versed blade practitioners.

All three former pupils bowed before their elder in respect as the room erupted into happy cheers and applause. The fight's end signified the roar of the torrent audience no longer dammed in silence and allowed to awaken their fan-fared roars.

It may have been their imaginations, but those that had been in the face of conflict had experienced what could only be described as a vivid daydream. Images of dragons, elves, and fantastical beasts filled the heads of the kendo fighters. No shared epiphany occurred but the mysticism of the dream was met with a lingering confusion. What had that been?

Toshiro himself shook his head out of the dream and back into the light of day. He only had seconds to recollect his thoughts as he completed his ceremonial bow before a frail family member rushed into the Dojo from the estate grounds. The man was frantic and in a daze.

"Something is coming this way! Monsters of some kind are killing everyone!" The man spoke as he waved his smartphone through the air in fright.

The room's shared consensus was spoken by the family Elder in a quiet but strong voice of an experienced teacher, "What do you mean?"

The frantic man calmed himself before addressing his blood superior. "A friend of mine was Skyping with me from across town at Ginza before he was struck down! He was murdered! There were dragons and knife-wielding creatures bursting from a large building – it looked like a Roman structure. We must leave at once!"

Without a shade of doubt, Toshiro nodded to the Elder, his sensei, as he shared a silent conversation – the trust in their family was strong; the man of the hour was not lying. He could only have spoken the truth – not when he stood before the family and his Elder. This was a dire situation that had to be addressed immediately.

Toshiro spoke in a commanding voice, "Anyone who wishes to help save lives, go with the news-bearer and help get people out of the area! Everyone else, follow me! I need six volunteers."

The said volunteers quickly fell in line as the group moved to the family arsenal where both historical weapons and the training gear of the family was kept. Years of history lay in the halls of the Dojo's Armory.

Katanas, spears, and sets of samurai robes were drawn from their still saber mounts along the walls.

Sixteen men of varying age and stature would enter the Dojo's armory and sixteen warriors with one cause would step out into the sunlight – ready for battle and war.

They quickly began to make their way out into the streets of Tokyo to meet the enemy that threatened their Keep and Nation.

However, a battle was not decided that day just for them. There were others around the Archipelago that were rushing to the aid of the innocent.

…

 _ **"I pledge allegiance to my flag…indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."**_ **– Fragments from Bellamy Pledge of Allegiance (United States), First Edition, 1892**

…

Across the sea toward the nearby island of Okinawa, a province of Greater Japan, an American of Camp Schwab experienced the joy of simple-minded gunplay.

The television in the NCO-lounge had been turned up to a high volume as virtual bullets smashed into virtual bodies and the screams of gunfire and death roared across a fictional battlefield.

"Enemy Killed. Plus Hundred Points."

A Derek Oliver, Lance Corporal of the United States Marine Corps, finest group of untamed warriors known to Mankind, was getting his daily dose of a Killing Spree on Call of Duty's next annual release. Probably Black Ops Three or something.

He didn't expect it but the futuristic, virtual warfare would be replaced with actual combat – spilling blood in the form that no one wished to take part. An actual battlefield defined by the Sandbox battles in the Middle East that had occurred for the last decade. This next fight would be no different.

The Lance Corporal was just preparing to complete another rotation of death-bringing when his signal went dead and the television input swapped to the public, Japanese channels.

Oliver had assumed that the previous racket behind him had simply insignificant, unimportant whereas he wouldn't be needed for any task at hand – he had already handled his mess for the day.

"What the fuck, dude? I was on a roll—." The Lance Corporal protested as he turned to face one of his fellow NCOs. There were several other Marine riflemen also shuffling into the room now.

"Shush! Shush, we need to watch this."

Oliver turned about face to watch the Japanese news report and found himself catching glimpses of shaky visuals revealing formations of horsemen charging across Japanese downtown leaving death and destruction in their wake. There were civilian crowds being guided to the slaughter as they were torn apart. The news anchor moved frantically across the screen as her camera attempted to keep up. Her desperate screams were drowned out by the screech of a great, flying reptilian shadow descending from above.

The words spoken by the Japanese civilians were lost upon the Lance Corporal but the main question spoken by the channel was clear: "Attack on Ginza?"

The Marines could only watch in awe and shock – the memories of 9/11, some just old enough to remember the collapsing towers and endless smoke. This couldn't be right. Was this an elaborate prank? The latest episode in a bad Japanese drama? A dangerously realistic commercial?

It wasn't until the Marine Corps platoon commander rushed into the room and shattered the nightmare. They were warfighters; they needed to act like it.

"Hey! Saddle up! We're deploying in forty-eight hours. Yokota and Yokosuka are already mobilizing. We're the reaction force, gentlemen!"

Oliver shared a grim stare down with a fellow Marine NCO that continued in thick silence as the world around them exploded into controlled chaos. Everyone in the room was wondering what was going on and how it had come down to this.

Even as the Marines of Okinawa rushed into action a silent promise was made, a pledge to find justice for the dead they swore to protect, whether American citizens or otherwise.

…

 _ **"No one knows the current situation in Tokyo but it seems there has been an attack."**_ **– Japanese News Network subtitles in English, an hour into the Attack on Ginza, 2016**

…

Not too far from the roads of Ginza, the Joint Naval Base Yokosuka, sixty-four kilometers south, was bathed in activity.

Americans and Japanese military personnel were rushing around trying to gain a semblance of order as civilians were slaughtered by unknowns to their north.

One Japanese enlisted man, Leading Private Adam Sakamoto, could only freak as he tried to manage the order from his new-found chaos.

"Shit. No way. This can't be happening. Is this really happening?" The Private stressed under his breath as he rushed through the streets of Yokosuka and into a crowded room of faces he knew well enough. What he didn't know was the visuals echoing through his mind and flashing on the televisions throughout the enlisted quarters on base. Images of dead Japanese civilians in the streets of Tokyo, unknown combatants armed with spears and swords, and flying creatures that could only be described as European-styled dragons. Everything was bathed in a crimson hue of spent blood.

Gallons of human life leaking into the streets of one of Mankind's greatest cities.

"What the hell are you standing around for? Get your kits and mount up! We leave in five mikes! You be out by your bird or you find your own transportation. Now…move it!" An unseen face shouted out orders to every infantryman in the room. His face could not be found behind the dozens of men and women but it was no doubt that the Captain was very motivated and wanted his troops ready for battle.

The infantry moved in an almost comical fashion to their benches but they got their job done. They would handle their mission as effectively as possible – especially for troops that hadn't seen a single taste of battle in their lives beyond the usual training simulations, live-fire war games, and the occasional computer simulation. The group attempted their best to stream through a single door to the armory.

Weapons lined the walls within the precise cages used to prevent unauthorized acquirement of weapons on base. Some infantry of the JGSDF were sloppy in their movements as some attempted to punch in their locker codes while hyperventilating leading to some becoming frustrated as a denying red light blocked access to their necessary weaponry.

Adam rushed to his own weapon locker and quickly typed in his code. The metal lock came undone and he reached into to grasp the familiar pistol grip of the standard issue rifle of the Japanese Ground Self Defense Force, the Howa Type 89, chambered in 5.56 mike-mike.

He quickly pulled on his Type Three Camouflage and QR gear. He made sure that all his weaponry and gear was marked with a tag marking the leased ownership of the equipment to his own name. Adam holstered his Minebea Nine-Mil, an export copy of the P220, and slung his rifle across his chest. An armorer came rushing down the halls of the armory with a large cart full of boxes containing pre-loaded ammunition.

Adam grabbed his fair share and rushed out of the armory. He let a small grin flash across his face, even in this dark time. There was a satisfying snap-and-click from Adam's rifle being fed a full magazine. The man knocked on his Type 88 helmet to make sure it was secure.

Wind washed the grounds of Yokosuka's airfield as hundreds of infantry rushed to their transports. They all fell in line as they had practiced routinely in the past and waited for orders. A general microphone check went across the Japanese forces. Moments later the Captain's voice echoed through the headsets of his men and women. "Move out. Go! Go! Go!"

The tarmac was smashed by the clicks of dozens of boots crossing the black ground to meet the waiting doors of the UH-60s. Black Hawks prepping for battle.

The Japanese troops quickly climbed aboard and Adam took a seat at the far left, outbound seat of the helicopter. He would be one of the first to have boots on the ground. Like so many other infantrymen of the Self-Defense Force, Adam had been waiting for this day. They would do their country proud and defeat this new, invading force.

The rotors coughed ever more as their blades spun ever faster and became weightless. Within seconds, the birds were in the air and the first responders were on their way.

From an open window of the US Naval Hospital, an American could make out the flying Blackhawks heading due North toward the sight of smoke.

A television in the background could be heard broadcasting.

"We are receiving CCTV reports from Tokyo, Japan. There is a developing situation in the streets. People are reporting flying monsters, aliens, and men on horseback. People are dying."

Chief Petty Officer Michael Hudson had to spit out his coffee at hearing those words. The distant flutter of Blackhawks only emphasized the dire situation that the US Navy would have to deal with.

Hudson rushed out of his chair, knocking it over in the process, spilling his coffee as he ran toward the ward room. He was quick to catch the bulletin as he watched the footage flash across the screen being auto-translated into English. To the medical officer, it was clear – they were about to be flooded with the wounded and dying.

The CPO's phone pulled him out of his stupor.

"CPO Hudson here."

An unseen individual on the other end spoke with Hudson in one-sided silence as the man spoke with the unseen caller.

"Yes, sir. I've seen the report… Yes sir, I understand… Of course sir. I'll have a team of Corpsmen ready to roll in ten mikes… Aye, aye, Commander." Hudson replied to his superior on the other line in a rapid manner – he quickly closed the call and opened an extension to another individual. There was a pause before the call connected.

Hudson spoke first, "Wilkes? It's Chief Hudson. Get an emergency response team together – have them prepped and ready in ten minutes. We will be taking LSSVs from the motor pool. I want medical equipment and kits prepped for stab and slash wounds, broken bones, and all degrees of burn… Yeah, arm your guys but prep as if we're dealing with another Nine-Eleven…step on it. I'll meet you there."

Hudson closed the call and hooked the landline.

He shuttered down the office – turned out the lights, shut down his computer monitor, closed the window blinds, and sprinted off to the barracks.

He collected his medical kit and rushed to the ER to gather some last-minute supplies. Now all he needed was to collect his combat gear and to collect his weapons at the armory.

For a man starting to push fifty, Hudson had been questioning if reenlisting as a corpsman was the right thing to do. He quickly banished the thought as he brushed past a frantically emptying elevator, and pounded into a nearby stairwell. "You're here to save lives," he muttered to himself, pounding down the landings. "You can't regret that..."

In less than two minutes, he had descended four stories and rushed outside the hospital, yelling for bystanders to get out of his way as he made for his quarters. He needed to be at the motor pool – now.

…

 _ **"Do you remember where you were when everything fell apart? Do you remember where you were when the Towers came down?"**_ **– Anonymous, Post-September 11, 2001**

…

The sky was bright and clear, the sun was visible over the Japanese forests. Below the tree tops, however, darkness reigned supreme and light only flourished in small patches.

This was the darkness where hunters and battle thrived. Where Death reigned over all else.

Beyond the city limits of Tokyo City and the barbed fences of Yokosuka Joint Naval Base, the quiet forest was a welcome change. Even with the endless shadows and primordial fear going around, it beat the structured nature of civilization.

Andrew Blackburn, an offspring of the city, had always found the wilderness a beautiful replacement for the noise of the city. Even in Texas, the home of wide-open spaces, the cities were claustrophobic jungles of metal and tension. Living in the suburbs had always felt clean and structured – too much order, all the way to the horizon. The suburbs were familiar and safe, but they were cages for people without purpose. They had no aspiration and for Blackburn, it was suffocating.

Joining the Navy had been one of, if not, the best decision in the teenager's life. Probably one of the hardest paths to take, however, Annapolis and all.

Between paperwork and endless filing, being an officer made Andrew happy – the best part: he got to see the world.

In the shadow of a great Japanese Oak, Blackburn held himself real still as distant voices and choked gunfire crashed through the woods. A fallen log shielded his presence from the world along with the woman leaning snuggly into his back – Athena Lin.

The two were tight in their little foxhole, the woman readjusted her slung rifle – a Sig Sauer 552 and tensed her muscles. The message told Blackburn she was ready to get back into the fight, a sign he needed to be ready too. Blackburn tensed his arm and back muscles in response to her sudden hardness into his back. His Colt M4 clicked as he planted a new STAGNAG in its magazine well. Andrew's fingers danced across the heavily kitted out CQBR rail system.

"Athena, I need you to break left. Use that hidden outcropping as cover. I'll cover your move."

"Got it, bud. Don't get me killed." The woman replied softly without glancing at her male fireteam buddy.

The woman stretched her legs and slid away from Blackburn's spine as she prepped to make a break for a new position.

"On your count. Go is the signal." Blackburn told the female fighter.

Looking at the female, dressed in JGSDF-styled camouflage, she looked menacing in the dim lighting. Blackburn knew she would kill all the bastards around them if she got the chance. Every single one of them.

"Three."

Blackburn crouched and placed an arm against the bark of the fallen log.

"Two. One."

Blackburn climbed up to full height and aligned his sights into the darkness of the forest.

"Going," Athena called as she disappeared off to Blackburn's left. Her 552 was up and pointed out in front of her.

A stream of fire exploded from the naval officer's M4, slicing through the woods as his battle buddy charged elsewhere. Hopefully, the enemy wouldn't see her or some would be dumb enough to stand up and take a shot to the face.

There was a rustle of grass as Athena successfully rolled into an indent in the shrubbery nearby and Blackburn ducked down to reload his nearly-empty weapon.

A single round, traveling at high velocity skimmed the top of the fallen log where Andrew's head had been only a moment earlier. A damn, near close call.

Blackburn was about to return fire from a different position along the log when a single, high-pitched whistle echoed through the trees. An abruption in the combat. Everyone and everything stopped moving.

Off to Blackburn's left, Athena attempted to stand up only to slip in a mud pit onto her butt. A series of unintelligible grumbles and several Chinese curses were spilled into the night.

Blackburn looked down at his watch then turned to the referee coming up behind him. The Japanese man was dressed in a royal purple hoodie and a bright orange safety vest. "We still had five minutes. Why'd you end the game?"

"Some-bad, happening in the city." The ref replied in broken English. In front of Blackburn, now standing at his imposing height – at least tall compared to his Japanese counterparts, six-foot-one, towered over the log and made out the rising faces of his unseen adversaries.

A handful of enemies exited out of the woods and so did the faces of the fallen and dead. Dozens of small youth and teenagers crawled out of the bushes. College students and young adults stomped into the clearing as a gust of wind blew by ominously.

Blackburn's skin crawled even as the simulation ended.

Each individual carried an airsoft replica of a real steel weapon. They didn't carry actual brass-tax bullets. They carried plastic, biodegradable BBs. This wasn't a war, only a game.

Blackburn asked the ref, "What's actually happening?"

His only reply, "Ginza is under attack."

For those old enough to remember Pearl Harbor in the forties or to remember Nine-Eleven in Oh-one, they could probably tell you where and what they saw when the world around them fell apart.

Blackburn could tell you where he was the minute the Attack on Ginza began, he had lost himself in a dream of a soldier-wannabe.

…

 _ **"You got the wrong quote." – Sergeant George O'Hare, UH-60 Crew Chief, 2016**_

…

In the distant Berlin, miles from the epicenter of chaos, Sergeant Johannes Koch of the German Army's Mountain Infantry was sitting in a beer garden when the news of Ginza reached his ears and his nation's shores.

The public, the civilians in the private establishment began to rapidly speak in hushed but sharp voices as they reacted as civilians always did. For the man, it was just another day in the life of a veteran, a soldier. "It's terrible but this isn't my fight."

To others, it would have been the opposite response. However, as time went on, his own personal opinions became irrelevant as the Security Council gathered in Belgium.

It would be inevitable, in a matter of hours – he would be informing his family of his travels and goodbyes would be passed around. A soldier must do what his nation tells him. He sacrifices his soul for a greater cause than himself, this is the tale of the warfighter – an endless tale of sacrifice.

However, there are those that might find these deployments more interesting than pointless.

The personnel on Misawa Air Base were more proactive and responsive in kind. Maybe even a little more emotional – whether through humor in dark times or tears and shock that another war had begun.

The CWO, Brian Morrison, and his Blackhawk crew were receiving the same BBC television report.

"This can't be real mate, I mean shit, like, are you seeing this?" Brian crew chief, Sergeant George O'Hare, pointed at the television.

"Real or not. I doubt we can touch this." Morrison replied. The co-pilot, Jack Benet, ran into the room breathing hard from a sprint.

"Hound! We've been put on a forty-eight-hour standby! No off-base passes for the next few days!" He said as he wheezed back to a normal state.

The rest of the room, the entire Blackhawk crew only stared in shock, disappointment, and shared epiphany.

"What was that about not touching this?"

Brian leaned back into his chair as he took O'Hare's vocal jab. "Fuck!" He had a date tonight.

The Chief Warrant Officer looked at his crew, "War. War never changes."

"Dude, this isn't the time to be quoting the opening line of Fallout." Jack retorted as he got up and moved to collect his day pack and duffel bag to prep for potential counter-ops against this new enemy that they could barely make out on screen.

"He's right, Hound." O'Hare said to Morrison, "You got the wrong quote. This is more like a "We didn't start this war but we'll damn well finish it" moment."

Brian turned to look out the window. He got up to get his duffle bag just as Jack was already doing.

"Battle Stations Pacific, I like it. Good choice."

Jack sighed as he made some finishing touches to his duffel, "Remind me again. How I got tangled up with you two assholes?"

"Admit it, Jack, you love us!" Sergeant O'Hare replied.

"Shut up George!"

…

 _ **"Truth; soon we shall either kill the barbarians or else, we are bound to be killed ourselves."**_ **– Spartan King Leonidas, Supposed Quotation (Roman Translation), Unknown Year**

…

Blocks from the grounds upon which Innocence had been slaughtered, a loose formation of oriental-armored men, sixteen in total moved between overturned cars and the corpses of dead or the warm bodies of the dying – all struck down by waves of arrows that could blot out the sky.

They stood just outside or alongside a makeshift barrier built out of numerous light cars of Japanese make. At the center of the barrier, lining from sidewalk to sidewalk, a gap had been created to allow scared civilians to rush beyond the formation. They were fresh from the onslaught coming from Ginza – men, women, and children coming in droves. Most of them already appeared roughed up or bloodied in all shapes and forms.

Some people had notable injuries, others were simply exhausted from an adrenaline rush as they sprinted from the enemy waves.

When the crowds began to shorten out, some men and a few women made an effort to stay behind. If someone, anyone, was going to make a stand against these unknown foes – it was going to be the brave and willing that wished to protect their people and their country.

The heavier built men among the armored entourage quickly filled the gap as the last of the civilians trickled by. Two Japanese cars were completed and suddenly they had an Alamo. Among all the paths through Tokyo, this was the largest intersection and the easiest accessible path to the freeway, a chokepoint to handle – especially against an army without knowledge of the terrain.

The spearmen stood at the front, making up the first defensive ring around the makeshift, car-stacked barrier. The swordsmen stood at their flanks.

The commotion of civilians passed and for a moment there was silence, there was peace. Then the fragile spell was broken and an army of what could only be described as fantastical beasts – mostly pig humanoids and goblins marched within sight of the wall that lined the chokepoint.

The swordsmen stood their ground and tensed as the enemy approached – their boots and hooves and feet clicking as they began their charge.

A long, blood-chortling cry escaped the mouths of the charging enemy but their out-numbered prey remained silent, holding their ground.

The first enemy troops were met with spears to the chests that ripped through thin plate pieces and bare skin and chain-link mesh armor. Those that got around jumped upon the first line of defenders who were forced to slowly back up as the sheer number of enemies overwhelmed them. The swordsmen quickly filled in the gaps and parried the enemy and forcing them to slow down their approach.

There were several barriers of cars that lined the defense. The first wall fell with ease as a lack of skin bags waited for the enemy approach. The second wall was an embattled porcupine as blades slashed and stabbed into the slowing enemy. The defense was made up of five rows of cars, some more complete than others. The enemy and the defenders knew, there would be much ground to cover in the coming minutes.

Brave civilians that managed to stay behind and fight for their home leaped into the fray and drew up the weapons of the dead. Some finding success in battle and others not managing to reach such a purchase as they were slaughtered upon contact. They just didn't have the experience or training to fight an enemy with years of battle experience.

Bodies began to topple on both sides. The dead were left where they fell as the battle fell into full swing.

Toshiro and his sensei, the Elder stood apart from their allies as they fought through the swarm of enemy combatants that attempted to breach their already shattering line.

The enemy humanoids were effectively pacified as an ancient bullhorn roared across the street. The enemy troops slowed their assault and retreated meters away and opened a path through their sea of blades. For a moment, it gave the defenders time to collect their breath when the bullhorn sounded again twice and beyond the sea of monsters, a more human enemy on horseback rushed their security line. A cavalry charge – Roman troops or something of the sort charged along the backs of mighty steeds and challenged the defense that their enemy had constructed.

"Hold!" A shout echoed among the Japanese lines.

The Japanese civilians and the members of Toshiro's family tensed in preparation of the charge. The spearmen drew themselves low and prepared to use their spears as pikes. The swordsmen retreated back to another line as they prepped for the overflow of the enemy formation that would certainly break past.

The horses rushed over the makeshift barriers and their riders managed to hack an unlucky civilian who didn't have the time to retreat. His body fell into a pile of dead nearby before anyone could account for his loss. Toshiro and the Elder were quick to knock over the charging horses with horizontal slashes or cutting through the underbelly of their foes. The heavy armor of the enemy legionaries became a liability to their wearers as their weight made it impossible for them to get up following the harsh impact of falling from their dead horses making them easy targets. Others were knocked unconscious or crushed by their steeds' dead corpses.

The combat bought civilians more time to retreat and it prevented the enemy from advancing for some time. They would hold the line or die to try until a more formidable ally could relieve them of their burden. The question was at what cost? How many more would fall before this battle and slaughter came to a close?

The horde was coming back, humanoids rushing back into the fray and the horse riders stopping to demount and charge their foes on foot. This would be another impossible battle for the books, at least, as long someone managed to survive long enough to retell the tale.

This battle had only started but already countless allies had fallen around Toshiro. How many more lives would be lost this day? He couldn't spend much more time considering the situation. His katana, made from Japanese-steel, clashed with the foil-steel of a Roman-style gladius short sword.

The battle would take more lives in time and it was not nearing its end. Not anytime soon.

…

 **[Participants]**

" **Karaya 2, RiptideZ, TrueForgiveness, TalRavis, Lt. James lugnerische, Kilo 6"**


	2. No Easy Day

Well here is Chapter Two, don't expect updates to be this fast. This will be the last immediate update. Everything else will be up to my convenience.

Now to make the proposition, there will be times where other members of the Roleplay will write scenes or even entire chapters in the place of me. That will be decided at a later date. I'd like to say, thank you for all the support, from both the community and the members of the Roleplay. Kilo 6, SOCOM-1, Karaya 2 from in the forum. Please keep giving feedback, though, I would really appreciate some constructive criticism on certain aspects. This current style will change from here on out – the scenes won't be as hectic since this was kind of a mess when we were working on it.

To answer some questions, about the title, no I will not be changing it. Not unless someone in the forum can convince me otherwise. I don't feel the necessity, especially if someone feels that it's wrong – there are a number of names that could be used to describe this behavior but in all context, that would be Political Correctness. We shouldn't feel bad about history, we shouldn't ignore it our attempt to cover it up. Genocide happens, Death happens, war crimes happen. It's a part of the Human Condition. An example would be the takedown of the Confederate Flag, I'm no fan but removing a piece of history is a mistake. Just like the ban on My Struggle by Adolf Hitler – he was an evil guy and so was his followers like Heinrich Himmler, we're not going to ignore who they were or what they believe because that's history. The term crusade, in this case, is generalized but I will keep it since this is a sort of Crusade, a Campaign with a Motivation.

We'll try to consolidate the work and try to make it less cluttered later. SOCOM, you know how this goes later.

I really doubt I didn't make mistakes but we move forward. At the request of Faust1812, on the note that Here We Go Again is entering some difficult territory and rewrites are being done, he has asked me to redact his work so any mentions of his work from here on out are rewritten, replaced, or ignored. Any references to Here We Go Again will also be removed. If you wish to see his original work, you may take a look at the forum itself at: "Tales from the Special Region Troops."

Now we move forward, this marks the end of the first Roleplay Topic and we move on to the next, Roleplay Topic Two: "The Coming Storm."

Please Read and Review and please give support or feedback for the contributors found at the bottom of the page.

…

 **["No Easy Day"]**

 **[Summer 2016]**

…

" _ **The only easy day was yesterday."**_ **– United States Navy SEAL Motto, Unknown Motivation, Unknown Year**

…

The response by the Japanese Defense Force had been quick and efficient as usual and as expected. It was their job to defend their island nation and they did it to the best of their ability, sometimes even going above and beyond what was needed of them. They took care of the wounded. Pushed back the enemy forces and ended the slaughter of their citizens.

The military had done their job but even then, tragedy had already struck. Death had already claimed its fill. War, war never changes.

For the civilian defenders at the Freeway Chokepoint, a different variation of Thermopylae had been fought. It had taken hours for the Calvary to arrive. Not the enemy horsemen, but the air support in the form of JGSDF Air Cav and Attack Helicopters. The damage had already been done, as Toshiro Kenja, one of the Chokepoint's survivors, had known best.

Among the initial defenders taken from the halls of the Toshiro Clan, sixteen at the beginning of contact with their unknown enemy, ten had fallen in battle. Seven were easily found – dead and killed where they stood, surrounded by dozens of their inhuman foes. Toshiro knew nothing of their enemy, but the casualties taken by the Clan had proven that years of tradition and practice were important allies on the battlefield – just as useful as experience and strategy.

Another three bodies had been lost during the fighting, either lost in the piles of the dead or covered by the swarms of unknowns. They're identities and their causes of death would have to be gathered later, post-mortem and after the cleanup. The streets of Tokyo had seen better days.

There had been at least thirty civilians, faces and names that the young man would never know but honored their sacrifice nonetheless. There were few that had the willingness and the strength to stand up to impossible odds and certain death to fight for a cause greater than themselves. A nation above an individual – nationalism for the soul. A relationship that every citizen had with their homeland, not too different from the relationship between a man and his God.

The air was gray with the dust of disturbed asphalt and cement, the streets and walls were caked in dry blood and running red with the essence of the fallen. Corroding bodies lay everywhere, between cars and in open spaces – under signs and hidden in the nearby stores. Here at the Chokepoint, the bridge between Districts, men and women had stood their ground.

At some point during the battle, the enemy had retreated to regroup – out of sight and out of mind. The defenders had acquired a working vehicle and managed to raid the abandoned District Police Precinct, not one of those small police booths, the Koban, but the actual police headquarters where the Police armory could be found.

Shotguns, small pistol-carbine hybrids, and handguns had been confiscated from the armory and repurposed for the defense of the bridge and chokepoint. Only eleven individuals remained from those that had stood from the start – only six of them remained from the Toshiro Family defenders.

They had done their job and now as the civilian workers and military personnel searched through the streets looking for survivors and hidden enemies. In the distance, gunfire could be heard in sporadic patterns – coming in and out of existence.

The Japanese Defense Force with help from American advisors were doing counter operations back toward Ginza Plaza and the Chou Ward. Enemies had taken refuge in the buildings and were only prolonging the conflict.

For Toshiro, that had been hours ago as he stood, meditating over the day's events in darkness and silence.

So many dead – he couldn't get the images out of his head.

The young man opened his eyes and gazed upon the naturally-lit Family Dojo. The sun still flew high in the sky and bathed the world in an amber yellow. To others, it might have been a beautiful display but to Toshiro, it was a sick reminder of how insignificant life was in the face of Father Time.

He had spotlessly cleaned the entire Dojo in an attempt to find some normalcy, to work away his distress and find calm in menial labor.

It didn't work.

Toshiro stared off into the dimly-lit corners of the room and at specific spots on the floor with an intense glare. In the last few hours of his cleaning spree, he had become hypersensitive to the growing dust particles spread out through the building. He couldn't find any rest, no peace of mind.

By himself, the young man struggled with himself in frustration. His family members had fallen in battle, his father and his sensei, leaving the world permanently.

Toshiro looked out the window and watched the silent houses and buildings that made up the Toshiro Family compound. He turned back to observe the Dojo.

At the center of the room lay the remnants and tattered remains of his father's samurai armor. Toshiro had scavenged it off his dead body where he had fallen in battle. The blades and spears of his fellow clansmen had been gathered too, still red with the blood of their slain foes.

He remembered the battle, his clansmen standing united against the barbarians, like them, their weathered blades stood gallantly in the folly of a cleaned estate, where the lives of the fallen had once thrived. The jeers and playful hollering of younger men and the older men's low chuckles. Those echoes were empty now, long gone.

Their death weighed heavily on Toshiro, his family had lost some of its dearest sons, and yet, he found himself still lost and somewhat indifferent to his loss – a lack of emotion.

Their deaths didn't feel as meaningful as he had expected, the supportive words of his commanding officer from the military only dug Toshiro into a deeper hole. The commendations, the medals, the honors from the government. The statements made: "How many would have died if the family hadn't been so quick to react?

Toshiro Kenja was more than just a practitioner of Kendo or a young clansman. He was a soldier in the Self-Defense Force and yet the lives of his dead clansman felt more like literal obstacles on a battlefield, a statistic among the nation's killed-in-action.

The young clansman felt frustrated with himself for not feeling more to the loss of many of his closest friends and father figures.

Then there was the United Nations.

There was word going around that the Security Council was working on a response to the Attack on Ginza. The JSDF was already mobilizing and according to some of Toshiro's military buddies, even the Americans were getting antsy – arming up and suddenly ending off-base passes. Joint-training operations were at an all-time high.

While the choice to go or to stay had been certainly asked by many, Toshiro was confused by the aftermath. Whatever happened after this fight, he decided, he would fight to find justice for the dead and to honor the death of his family, but most of all – he would protect his country at all costs. Just as his family had done hours earlier.

He made his decision, if he was sent to war, he would go to war. He would be remised if he didn't.

The next few days would be spent collecting himself, then, he would be there – when Japan would come calling, "to arms, to arms."

To war, Toshiro would go.

…

" _ **I love the Navy. I really do…Except for all the damn sailors."**_ **– Anonymous Green Beret, Callsign: "Thirty-K," after a joint combat operation with Frogmen, Unknown Year**

…

In Misawa, the Americans were as antsy as Toshiro had guessed.

Far north of Tokyo, a pair of Navy pilots discussed their situation – the Ginza Attack had changed things a lot. For some, it was the end of a deployment-old partnership.

Deployments in any service branch tended to end around two-year rotations. For one Ensign Adrian Wallace, a graduate of America's prestigious Naval Academy, leaving the Thirty-Fifth Fighter Wing to join operations down south was a new experience. Flying combat tours would be new to him, but as Ginza had changed many, it had changed Adrian for sure.

"So, you're leaving us?" Adrian's WSO asked as he walked into the pilot's dorm.

Wallace looked out the window toward Security Hill where radio dishes tracked satellites and foreign radio frequencies.

"Yeah. My papers came through, I'm definitely being reassigned. Still in this theater but different op, I don't know."

The WSO looked at the pilot curiously.

"What's the assignment?"

"USS Reagan, Fifth Carrier Fighter Wing."

"Reagan, huh? You're a lucky bastard, you know? Fighters are the bomb." The WSO replied. He was grinning, knowing his buddy would do fine. "Well, either way. Good luck."

"Thanks," Adrian replied as the two shook hands.

"You think this is for Ginza?"

Adrian nodded in affirmation.

"You make sure you make those asses pay for what they did to Willy. Take care of yourself!"

The two fist-bumped and broke off into silence. The WSO shuffled out of the room as Adrian put some finishing touches to his duffel bag.

For a moment, Adrian paused and remembered the face of his friend "Wild Weasel" Willy. Named after the old, modified F4 Phantom from the Gulf War. Adrian knew as he marched out of the room he would find retribution for Willy and all the other dead in Tokyo. He still remembered the post-mortem report, bisected by a claymore and had his arms devoured by the monsters.

There would be Hell to pay.

…

" _ **No bastard won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor bastard die for his country."**_ **– General George S. Patton, speech to United States Third Army, 1944**

…

In his living room, First Sergeant Michael Dragoon was nursing a cold beer while staring down at a pair of papers with significant interest. These papers could define his immediate future.

One paper was marked by a potential transfer out of active duty to become a drill sergeant for the United States Army.

The other paper was a letter of resignation.

In all realistic analysis of this situation, Mickey, as he was called by his colleagues, his entire future would be decided by his own admission. He was his own man but many potential careers and victories in the military service had been denied to him. An unfair situation unless you considered the circumstances.

Mickey wasn't sure whether to be pissed or regretful about his predicament, much of it was his fault. Ever since he had attacked that one officer, he had been denied promotions and chances to change his karma as a part of the most badass military on the planet.

The service had never been fun for the Sergeant, but it had gotten unbearable with time. He sometimes wondered why he even decided to stick with the Army.

Even if he had screwed up once, the man knew he was better suited than others for a promotion. The promotion boards continued to look over him to those that didn't seek promotion or weren't ready for the job. It was an ironic and an impossible situation – the man didn't know what to do.

His own life was kind of a fuck up. It was easier to ignore his circumstances and just drink away the woes and to go with the flow. Now, though, the CNN report on television was speaking about a recent development in Tokyo.

With the television in the background, the Sergeant was caught by the sound of his smartphone ringing in his pocket. He checked the caller ID to find a fellow sergeant, an individual he shared a business relationship with, not an individual he could call a friend.

"Yellow?" Dragoon asked sarcastically to the said Sergeant.

"Mickey! You watching the news?" The man on the other end sounded anxious and breathless. In response, Dragoon took another swig of alcohol only to find a few drips dangling down into his throat with difficulty. His bottle seemed to be out again.

"I got it playing if that is what you mean."

"What do you mean?"

"It's on."

"You actually watching?"

"Well… no." Dragoon replied awkwardly as he moved into the kitchen to grab another beer from the refrigerator.

The man seemed pissed and panicking on the phone. "Well, you fucking better be watching now! Shit is going down!" That was never a good sign but for the half-drunk Dragoon, he took it in stride.

"Uh," Dragoon turned to look at the television. It took some concentration but he made the images and the noises out clearly enough. "Baker, am I seeing this shit right? CNN?"

"Yeah. Definitely! What do you think we do man?" The Sergeant asked his fellow NCO.

"Nothing. Let the head-honchos handle this. Just go and inform anyone in your chain of the development, better everyone knew rather than it be us walking into this blind if it blows up."

The Sergeant sounded a little calmer on his end. He started to adapt and calm himself.

"Thanks. Yeah, I'll try man – you take care…Jesus Christ, this is really happening…" The Sergeant closed the call and let Dragoon have his peace, what little that actual was as the man stared intently at the screen, beer or no beer.

The coverage would continue all night. American and Japanese troops breaching into enemy holdouts. Helicopters chewing up enemy armies. Unknown monsters slaughtering Japanese civilians. Ambulances and cop cars everywhere. It was a nightmare come to life. It was a Frankenstein of a situation.

The bottom of the CNN report left little to the imagination. The title was clear: "Ginza District, Tokyo under Attack? Monsters from Fairy Tales? Thousands Dead?"

For Dragoon, his situation was clear. He looked at the two pieces of paper on his desk in front of him.

He took the resignation and balled it up and tossed it toward the other side of the room, entirely missing the waste bin. The second transfer paper was shoved into a drawer off to the side.

He would wait and see, Mickey would see this through. There might actually be a place for him in the military after all. He knew it as every man, woman, and child knew when they saw the news report. This was the beginning of a war.

…

" _ **Yes! Because this is how I wanted to spend my week – stuck in a god-forsaken foxhole."**_ **– Anonymous South Korean UDT, Two Weeks into Joint Training Operations, 2016**

…

Newly promoted Army Sergeant Geoffrey Kuribayashi shook his head in disgust at the sights being presented on the television he was watching, the creatures in Ginza were more reminiscent to the dragons and creatures from Dungeons and Dragons, the tabletop game he used to play back in his high school days.

Nearby, a group of Eleven-Bravos was discussing the Ginza Incident around a table in somewhat hushed voices. Geoffrey's above-average hearing picked up on their chatter, however, discussions on how they were going to love killing these new "terrorists" only made the Sergeant shake his head once more. They were too eager, too green. They didn't even understand what they were getting into – something still beyond any of their comprehension.

Geoffrey was annoyed with their apparent stupidity and at his own.

He had just signed his life away for another four years. Then this happens, it seemed almost like the Universe was out to get him. He had been dumb enough to raise his hand and volunteer to extend his contract – just an hour ago and already it was binding as all contracts were. Just in the face of this emergency situation, he really had no idea what he was getting himself into. Combine that fact with the situation that he was one of the non-commissioned, hell, a POG, to sign up for this kind of a mess.

His First Sergeant had been a bit giddy, even supportive and appreciative that he had signed away his life. Geoffrey had figuratively shot himself in the foot by going with this bullshit. Peer pressure or whatever the cause.

At the same time, the nerd within the Sergeant was jeering in happiness. He got to be at the center of Mankind's next step in advancement, to go where no man has gone before. The next frontier almost. He snickered to himself, under his breath, "Congrats, instead of becoming a level nine Paladin in the realm of Never-winter, you now get to be a goddamn radio operator with an assault rifle in bum-fuck nowhere unleashing the power of Gods on the heathen with dragons and magic and swords! Oh-fucking-boy!"

In many ways, this was any so-called, Otaku's, wet dream.

The NCO downed another shot of sake before getting up and grabbing his duffel off a nearby chair and walking out the door of the metropolitan pub, a regular for American GIs. He had a Blackhawk to catch in two hours and he needed to have his battle rattle gear altogether before he even considered getting closer to this bullshit. Really, it was bullshit.

Somehow he managed to love and hate himself at the exact same time as he made his way down the street back to the nearby Air Base.

…

" _ **Better get as much ass as you can now. Things are about to go downhill."**_ **– Anonymous Marine, Hours following Attack on Ginza, 2016**

…

Within the dark recesses of a dim nightclub among the countless structures that made up the Buenos Aires skyline, a couple held each other as loud music and flashing lights danced across the building's walls. This was the pair's first meeting, but when alcohol was involved, none of that matter. Hugs led to sloppy, unhinged kisses, utterly unhindered by the constant darkness.

The man of the pair, known as Augustin, didn't even know the woman's name. This was the couple's first meeting, but, in the end, it didn't matter. The Argentinian was looking for a bit of night fun and the halls of Pacha Nightclub suited his need contently. After so much work and business, it was nice to let himself go a bit. Time was of the essence this night; time was running short.

The kissing pair broke apart. Augustin looked down at those piercing brown eyes staring back at him in a playful but searching manner. It was clear that she, like Augustin, was heavily invested in their little partnership but the man knew it couldn't last forever. For a second he considered throwing all logic to hell and taking what they both wanted; the point of no return was never crossed. The Argentinian man reeled back in disappointment as he glanced at his watch.

It was easily five in the morning. He still had twenty minutes, but twenty was much shorter than he realized. He couldn't risk it.

"Che…what's wrong? Where are you going?" The unnamed woman asked in sudden worry as the man she had been so invested in began to stand up and unwrinkled his clothes.

"I'm sorry," Augustin muttered to her, he didn't want to disappoint her but it had to be done, "I have to go."

"Why? Dale, stay a bit longer."

"I can't. I have to leave soon."

"Why?" The woman held onto the man trying to get closer. "What is so important?"

Augustin wasn't sure whether to tell her. She'd probably figure it out eventually given the month's crazy events. It was a mess, one reminiscent to the attack on the United States in two-thousand-one. He looked back at those eyes and found he couldn't deny her simple curiosity.

"Do you remember what happened? In Japan?"

"Japan…last month right? A terrorist attack or something? With the knights and stuff?" The girl asked her voice remained soft now but it had an edge to it. Maybe she was regretting the question.

"Yeah…I uh, I'm going in there."

"What? Wait…so you're like?" Her eyes bugged out at him as a rush of emotions graced her face – the flare of her cheeks and the scrunch to her eyebrows. It was cute but ultimately worthless, Augustin couldn't keep this up forever.

"Yep," the man nodded. "I'll be leaving in a couple of hours. I must get back to base." Augustin got up from his chair and grabbed his coat off a nearby chair. He nodded to the woman as he began to retreat to the club's exit.

"Can…can I at least get your name?"

He considered her request for a moment. He turned around and walked back up to her and got down in a crouching position so they were at eye level.

The woman leaned in once more, not for a kiss but out of curiosity. The soldier slowly approached her, the woman's docile nature allowed him this one last respect. Je planted a light kiss on her forehead – a move she nodded softly to in appreciation.

"Teniente Agustin Köller. Cruz del Sur."

With a final glance, he walked out of the nightclub and out into the warm night of Argentina. Soon, the soldier would be an ocean away, preparing for a war. There could never be an easy day.

…

 **[Participants]**

" **James Koach, TrueForgiveness, ChaoticCrazy, Karaya 2, coyote16abel"**


	3. Reagan's Arrival

So do in part because of miscommunications and our own fumes coming to a grinding halt for our Roleplay, we have scrapped it. There is a continuation effort being led by stuka529. You can find his work under the forum label of the "Thus, the UN fought there."

We have also scraped our source material, and as such seven thousand posts have been deleted and this fanfiction is without fuel to continue. I want to thank all of you who have helped and supported this novelization this far through and it has finally found its ending. Sure, just as it started to burn but it did its magic and it had its place.

There are now multiple Roleplays taking place in the place of Our Crusade. Our time is at an end. Thank you to all our participants and thank you especially to Faust1812 for giving this story the chance to thrive for the time that it did. This has been an emotional roller coaster with plenty of ups and downs.

This last chapter is taken from what little I could salvage from the Second Chapter of the Roleplay, The Coming Storm. Also the namesake for the would-be Chapter Four.

If you want to see further work from me in the Gate Fandom, take a look at my other fanfiction – Homestead, a tie-in with BlueWay's Manifest Destiny. It has had a slow and shaky reveal but it really does need some love.

Thanks again for all your support, from both the participants and our readers. Please do read and review, leave your thoughts. For the currently active Roleplays, consider joining in. They really are a blast.

I also want to make a final thanks to SOCOM 1-1 and Karaya 2 for helping out in the final moments of this novelization. SOCOM came up with the name for our Marine General in the finale scene and both he and Karaya 2 gave me feedback for this chapter and several scenes beforehand during this fanfictions development. Good work guys, you all deserve a pat on the back.

…

 **["Reagan's Arrival"]**

 **[Autumn 2016]**

…

" _ **Some people wonder all their lives if they made a difference. The Marines don't have that problem."**_ **– President Ronald Reagan, Motivation Unknown, Author Unknown**

…

The day was toward sunset, the glaring star in the sky was approaching the horizon and the deep blue sphere had been transformed into a mix of golden and orange shrouds.

The water below this reddish sky was painted a pale maroon and the land of mainland Japan could be made out toward the West. Out here in Tokyo Harbor, dozens of boats – commercial and public chocked up the waterways, from tug boats to sizable fishing boats carrying thousands of pounds of fish and whale guts.

This was all a regular occurrence on the rolling plane of the sea but there was the rare occurrence of a black, jagged shape that blot out the sunlight. A large monstrosity that could only match the creation of a God. It was shaped like a ship and yet it was so much more, it created a wake that could be seen for miles. It was a floating city of thousands of warfighters prepping for a grandiose expedition that had never been attempted before because the potential never existed, till now.

This giant monster atop of the Pacific was the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower, a supercarrier and the king of the American Sixth Fleet, based in the Atlantic and Europe – this dreadnought was a long way from home. A second shadow slid quietly behind the Eisenhower, the king in these waters – the USS Ronald Reagan, another supercarrier, and the flag vessel of the American Seventh Fleet, permanently stationed in Japan at Yokosuka. After three months of international reaction to a major attack on Ginza, it had come home.

This was a homecoming for some, and for others, it was an arrival in a new land – in a matter of hours, however, the occupants of these two supercarriers would be deploying to another world to pave the road for the Future of Mankind. The first incursion by any large force, a crusade, into another universe, a totally new world that no one had ever publically entered. Hell, no one could have imagined these events actually occurring; not until it actually happened.

The streaks of nearby clouds created a surreal scene that validated the old, traditional art style of the Age of Samurai. To some, it was an ominous image and to others, it was romantic. It was awe inspiring to those that watched tonight – it was the promise of good times and maybe the end of familiarity and the entrance into a deep darkness. A metaphor for the beginning into the unknown.

The Eisenhower slowly came to sit alongside the Reagan, two behemoths in an ocean that spanned the horizon. From within its majestic cousin, the Reagan as it was known to its sailors, CVN-76, a large gathering of dysfunctional men and women loitered through the underbelly of the large aircraft carrier like cluttered schools of fish.

A large doorway, the elevator door entrance, revealed the open ocean and the Eisenhower sailing next to the Reagan. The aircraft elevator had been lifted to allow a clear vision of the open ocean.

The cold steel underbelly of the Reagan had been slaughtered of aircraft and cleared for the accommodation of thousands of troops and their gear. Cots lined the walls and military vehicles neatly sat in order.

There were hundreds of American troops aboard this vessel, it was a gathering of force. It was a gathering for war. There were sailors in their blue Tactical Work Uniforms working around the trucks, bombs, and aircraft. The Marines laid about in their own bored but astute manner. Televisions, coffee tables, and electrical breakers had been sprinkled through the huge hangar. Since the events of the War on Terror, this was by far the most sudden and largest movement of American troops to anywhere outside their own nation.

The majority had been pulled from either from operations in the Middle East or were taken from the allied war games event, RIMPAC 2016.

At the center of the hangar, there was a wooden platform with a podium decorated with red and black carpeting established somewhat close to the Marines encampment where the ground was by far a bit more comfortable than the sleeping area for the Air Force guys. It helps to be aggressive when claiming territory.

The Army and Air Force guys were staring and walking about aimlessly – they looked like they were birds without wings, without purpose. In some ways, they got stuck with the short end of the stick being shoved onto a Navy ship. They were aliens to this side of the Armed Forces. In another situation, they might have come in peace and prestige on a public airline like Southwest or something.

A group of sharp-dressed men marched their way to the podium, they wore their gleaming white ceremony uniforms with all the medals, ribbons and everything in between. They were astute and they gave off a sleepless aura, though it was clearly faked and practiced, they stopped at formation as a senior officer from the military brass stepped up to the central podium. The group of senior navy officers brought a heavy, cautious weight on the shoulders of all the American troops in the room. It put everyone on edge.

"Attention! Admiral on deck!"

The chatter in the room slowly became quiet but the chaos abruptly stopped as everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and fell in line at the sight of the high-ranking naval officer. There was some scrambling as some of the closer sailors and airmen attempted to form loose lines in front of the platform. By the time there was full silence, the only sound was the roaring waves outside and the sounds of mechanics still busy making final adjustments to their vehicles and equipment and continuing their work in measured silence.

"Testing…Alright, at ease! At ease!" The Admiral called as he checked the microphone.

The lines broke down in response to his call for ease in the ranks, along the breast of the officer speaking before the hundred or thousand-odd military crowd before him, the name, Admiral Nathaniel Lincoln, had taken the central spotlight and had brought the attention of the entire room upon him alone.

"Go ahead and have a seat, all of you, get comfortable. You know, I like to think of you all as my grandkids. When I want your attention you listen, but when I let you go, you all start acting like unruly children. Somehow in there – there is the strength and will to be the greatest fighting force on Earth." Lincoln looked at all the troops as he spoke from the point of view of a grandfather, his shaved but speckled chin seemed to glow under the red sky above.

There were soft chuckles, mostly from the Marines, as a calm filled the room. Lincoln was a father to his men, a personality to reflect his grizzled age.

"Life has been good for all of us, maybe to some degree, not so much, but we're all still living and we can say we were fairly at peace until a few weeks ago. Some of you might have been on leave – spending time with friends and family at home. Others among you were at the recent war games or at your regular training simulations. Others were busy living their day-to-day lives, we all were doing something within the constant normalcy we found ourselves. Then someone shattered the peace. We are here, obviously, to support our friends from Japan. On a nice summer day, not unlike this – it was shattered when a portal appeared at the center of Ginza District and spit out thousands of barbarians from who fucking knows where?"

The Admiral paused to take a breath. His face crunched at remembering the cleanup operations following the enemy invasion.

"They killed thousands, even some of our own citizens and even some of our friends from the Armed Forces. That enemy army gave no sign of coming in peace, they killed in cold blood and without remorse – they showed no Humanity. They were less than human and for that, we must find justice for those that have fallen, we will find those responsible and we will receive justice."

Lincoln paused again.

"For years, we have sought to promote peace and security around the world. It has been in our interest to protect all that seek and enjoy peace, prosperity, freedom, and certain unalienable rights. Those people that died, did not ask to die that day, it was a tragedy and a massacre on a grandiose scale. It will depend on all of us to correct this terrible wrong that has been committed. We will march through that hole in space and we will show them how real men fight – we will find justice for these crimes against Humanity. A United Nations task force has been established, as I'm sure, you are all aware. We will show these barbarians what happens when they mess with our allies when they mess with the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave. We are taking the fight to them. Good hunting."

Lincoln revealed his phone for a second, the tool he used to write the speech, and placed it back in his back pocket. He stepped away from the microphone to address another officer, but, even without the mike – his voice was no less booming.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I want to wish you all luck and tell you – give them hell. Now, General Elliot Cogburn will address you all – he will, from this point onward, be your commanding officer and the supreme commander of American operations beyond the place we know as the Gate. Trust him, follow him. Show our allies and enemies why Americans are the greatest fighting force in the world."

The Admiral in his dress whites let the aged man in MARPAT camouflage step up to the speaker.

"Where are my Marines?" The General called out.

"Oorah!"

"Where are my sailors?" The General called out again, this time with a slightly louder tone.

"Oorah!"

"Where are the rest of my peeps? My Airmen?"

"Hoorah!"

"And where are my soldiers? Where's my Soldiers?"

"Hooah!"

"So let me ask a question. What in the actual fuck?" Cogburn's voice boomed through the entire hangar bay. There was a sudden silence as even the waves outside the ship calmed at his question. He had broken a spell or something as the entire world was on him.

"We were attacked. Innocents were slaughtered. We all heard the news, some of us were there and we're still unsure what actually happened. What the actual fuck?" He looked across the crowd of warfighters intently watching, their eyes and ears, their souls bearing down on this Marine General in curiosity and intensity.

"The mess we're about to get into is something we've not seen before. An entirely new world, we don't know what's on the other side. We only know that we were attack – Japan was attacked. It is by the will of a barbaric and inhumane enemy with no virtues of respect for the innocent and the peaceful that we must stick our neck out at show them the might of our Armed Forces. Japan was attacked and we will support them, as we have always done. This is a mission for us to find justice for the fallen and the innocent blood that was spent in Ginza a month ago. Some of those lost were our friends, our family; some were neighbors and coworkers. Others were simply our allies, but this massacre, this crime against Mankind was a new low and it has crossed national boundaries and made us brothers and sisters in arms. We will not falter and we will march into the Unknown. This is our campaign for retribution. This will be our Crusade. And they will know our weapons and the roars for the retribution of innocence lost – they will come to fear us. Oorah?"

"Oorah!" The crowd of Americans raged into the heavens.

"Good work. Now, we're pulling up to Yokosuka now. We will soon be on Japanese soil. We will enter into the remnants of what recently was, the Battle of Ginza. Tread with respect but know what you are here for. We are here to fight an enemy that killed innocents. Let's go get them."

The room roared in affirmation. The time for America to fight back was today. They knew what they were getting into, the Unknown. Both ways, they would win and they would bring justice to the dead. Just like Nine-Eleven and just like Pearl Harbor. They would defeat the evil beyond their own borders as they always had. This time, they would not be alone. They would defeat the enemy that had marched on Ginza. Into the unknown. Through the Gate.

The Reagan would pass into the shadow of the night and land at Yokosuka Naval Base, bringing its army of Americans and the harbinger of their allies to bear on what they liked to call "Romans."

…

" _ **Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more…"**_ **– King Henry V, Exaggeration by Playwright William Shakespeare, Supposedly 1599**

…

For those that had been assigned this mission. They had no idea what waited for them…beyond that Gateway. The Battle of Ginza ended in a slaughter but it left much of society in duress as the world around and in Japan was left flabbergasted by the portal that sat within Tokyo.

The United Nations sent a task force, more of an International Combat Coalition, but we digress. The Special Region Taskforce was established.

On that day in August, the United Nations, in all sense of the term, declared war on what would become known as the Saderan Empire.

Thus, the United Nations fought there.

 _Fin. To be continued in another format._

…

 **[Participants]**

 **"RiptideZ"**

 **[Legacy Participants]**

 **"Faust1812, James Koach, BlueWay, RiptideZ, Empty Promise, Steryx R4, Kilo 6, TalRavis, Karaya 2, ChaoticCrazy, Lt. James lugnerische, stuka529, TrueForgiveness, LONGWING, coyote16abel, SOCOM 1-1, Oscar II, Demon's Dance, Mike303, Cynder fan, EasyCompany506, Quartermaster Taney-Chan, Goodalwins98, Survivalguy21, Chen ZiXin, & unmentioned others** _(I don't remember all the names!)_ **"**

*Thank you all for your support. Give this fanfic some feedback before you go!


	4. Paper Mail

My college has begun for me, my people.

That means that it will be highly difficult now for me to update as I get sucked into my studies and my ROTC training. Things will be difficult but I hope to succeed. I'll try to get more material out once I've found more time. Thanks for sticking through with me this long.

Now, for this chapter – special thanks goes out to Karaya 2 for allowing me to use his material to write this short chapter. Sergeant Johannes Koch is his character from the Gate Roleplay and was one of the major German OCs during the duration of Faust's Roleplay Project.

Now to answer a few reviews, one for Major Simi and the other for hopelessromantic34.

Simi, the aircraft carrier was used as a plot setting during our storytelling – it wasn't as realistic as it probably should have been but we would never have been able to get such a chapter out without it, so, hit or miss. That is how it will be. Thanks for stopping by now.

hopelessomantic34, I understand what you mean, the main Roleplay is no longer taking place and for the most part, has ended. If you want to join the continuation effort, converse with our buddy Stuka on his own forum. He is currently working on a continuation of the Roleplay.

Thank you all for sticking with me this long and thanks for the continued support. Please Read and Review, and take care, my friends. Stay fine, gents.

…

 **["Paper Mail"]**

 **[Autumn 2016]**

…

 _ **"I've always found something sacred in a piece of paper that travels the earth from hand to hand, head to head, heart to heart."**_ **– Robert Michael Pyle, American Author of "Sky Time in Gray's River: Living for Keeps in a Forgotten Place," Published Book: 2007**

…

When serving on the frontlines, the tendency to actually communicate with friends or family was highly limited. With the advent of satellites and global communications, the world became smaller in scope. People could connect oceans away with data dumps on the Internet becoming near instantaneous as we know it.

Many people take this technology and advancement for granted, but, when you've been on the frontlines for months on end in the middle of a third-world country without access to the Internet or a lack of land-based communication lines – communication gets limited and connections to the World Wide Web becomes completely limited as if someone was forced back into a pre-radio era.

The Middle East following Nine-Eleven and the Invasion of Afghanistan, well, most days were spent being bored for the guys on the frontlines – usually, they waited for the monthly care packages or that one call they get a week. Signal sucked but they made due. When you're in a totally different world, that communications is forced from the digital realm and into the literal hands of paper and pencil or pen.

Even in the twenty-first century, it helped to have good penmanship in the military it seemed – that was the case for one Sergeant Johannes Koch, German Army.

Originally, he didn't believe in the mission – correction, he was still unsure and even unimpressed with his deployment. One day, he was in a German beer garden in Berlin enjoying his lunch break from the office and the television is playing footage of a battle taking place in Tokyo. Real terrible, past century-type massacres.

He had thought it wasn't his fight, heck, he had been part of the Reserves – well, that could be considered a lie or just a simplification. His unit hadn't been activated and he was still at home enjoying time with his family. Training occurred often enough since he was Mountain Infantry, a popular unit given their constant deployment to Afghanistan and North Iraq during the last decade. Mountains were their specialization, hunting Taliban – their associated mission.

Now, he was in Japanese territory with pen and paper over his cellphone to speak to his family. He wasn't in Japan, but it was definitely Japanese-controlled territory.

Well, the situation right now in Tokyo was thick was confusion and fear. That was at least reflective in the civilian population, the military folk seemed more excited or antsy in comparison – they might even enjoy the chance to try something new like fighting a war in another country or another world altogether. The Japanese Self-Defense Force was highly green when it came to offensive warfare, they hadn't fought in an actual conflict since World War Two, mostly due to that interestingly smart but pesky Article Nine that was in the Japanese Constitution.

A bit of a history lesson, the Japanese government, post-Empire, was forced to accept an American-written Constitution rather than one of their own creations. A hefty price, but, when you were on the wrong side of the war – that was what happened. Germany went through a similar transformation from the Hitler-led atrocity of Nazi Germany to today with the powerful but peaceful, German Republic. One Johannes was happy to call home.

The month following the battle that became known as the Ginza Incident had cost much in terms of human life and societal apparatus as many began to question Humanity's place in the Universe.

Johannes had found himself rather unwilling to engage in such moral and existentialist debacles as it would have diluted his focus on the mission at hand, from being deployed as part of an international coalition to respond to a threat beyond Human comprehension. He focused on similarities to the Global War on Terror.

The German soldier focused on things like the desert, archaic and unchanged society and culture. He focused on the vision of a humanitarian and self-defense mission similar to Iraq and Afghanistan – a mission sanctioned by NATO and the UN, at least one of them; and compared to the two – this new mission into the Unknown was not much different.

In Johannes's hands, still crisp with fresh ink, a letter addressed to his family oceans away in Europe.

 **[Written Letter: Johannes Koch]**

My dearest Helga,

It's been a week since I left home and already our force has grown. Troops are pouring in from across the world. Peacekeepers from India and Spain, Combat troops from China and Russia.

An odd force indeed, most international troops are staying at Tokyo International Airport. Old rivalries and bad blood had many on edge.

Already, I've seen scraps between Chinese and Japanese soldiers over what happened in the Second World War. I can't help but wonder if that old saying, "that Humanity will band together when faced with a common foe;" if it's true or if the man who wrote it put too much stock on us. In the line of philosophy, it's hard to tell what empty words I guess is.

But that is beside the point, we of Gebirgsjäger are ready for anything and you'll have nothing to fear. If you see Father tell him I'll be fine. Take care of Erica.

I'm off to serve for the good of our people once again, wish me luck and pray that our mission succeeds; we will be back together soon, my love.

Forever yours ,

Johannes.

 **[Written Letter" Johannes Koch]**

Johannes took a moment to look over the paper in order to confirm that he wrote what needed to be said and he wrote what he wanted to say. Done and done.

In all honesty, though, the letter brought back memories as well – a week ago. To think he had been in Germany only a week ago enjoying life to its most content, yet, here he was now walking back into a war and a mess he didn't want anything to do with.

Munich. A time for family back then, a time for war – now. My, how has the world changed in a matter of days?

There had been storm clouds looming overhead of the Bavarian city of Munich. Johannes stood in the living room of his family apartment wearing his Army Battle Dress Uniforms. Before him, stood his daughter Erica, a young girl of seven years old with glossy-straight brown hair and a face maintained a little baby fat; Erica had tears in her eyes when she heard that her father was heading off to war. This was the first time she was old enough to comprehend the change but it meant little as Johannes's little girl balled her eyes out.

"But why you dad? Why do you have to go?" The young girl cried out. Johannes knelt down and put his hand on Erica's shoulder.

"It's not my choice kiddo, but I gotta do it," Johannes said – he made a mental thought of never getting to pick his own assignments. "Now don't worry Erica, I'll be home before you know it. Now behave for your mother."

"Okay, daddy," Erica replied wiping tears from her eyes. The mountain soldier stood up to face his wife who had been watching from the hall adjacent from the living room. She had a frown on her face and her chocolate eyes only gave away her dislike for the current situation – it was never a good day when her life partner had to leave and put his life on the line for his country. Family, for her, was more important than any tragedy or any nation.

"Don't look at me like that Helga."

"Like what?" The woman replied in a sarcastic but oblivious nature. Her faked attempt at being uninformed or uncaring was terrible – she wore her heart on her sleeve. This degree of emotion and unity between the two life partners was partially why Johannes had married her. Helga, his dear wife.

"Like I'm not coming back. Don't worry, I'm coming home alive. Besides, all I'm fighting are want-to-be Romans." Johannes said.

"I know you'll come back without a scratch but Hannes." Helga paused for a moment and looked up at Johannes. "I've known you for eleven years, I can tell when you don't believe in the mission." Johannes sighed as she saw right through him once again; what a perceiving woman like her.

"But it's my job, someone's got to do it. Might as well be me." With one last hug from each his wife and daughter, Johannes swung his ruck-bag over his shoulder and walked out the door of the apartment and into the complex atrium. He looked out the windows and up at the clouds wondering when the next time he would see the skies of Southern Germany again. He didn't care for this gray muck that dominated today; he wanted to see that sun and blue sky once again. He put on his mountaineer cap and walked down the street towards the closest bus stop.

The mission had to be done. Someone had to do it – that someone was Johannes Koch, Sergeant in the Germany Army.

The Sergeant remembered those moments quite vividly but he had more pressing matters now, no more time for waiting around for something to happen. Johannes put the letter away and slid it into an envelope – it would arrive in Munich in about two weeks, by then, the German soldier would be deep behind enemy lines and he needed his family to know how he was doing before communication became near impossible to maintain.

The Sergeant slid the letter into his shirt pocket and walked off toward the Japanese post office down the street. No time like the present it seems.

…

 **[Participants]**

" **Karaya 2, RiptideZ"**


	5. Giant Monsters

So, I've been gone long. Still going to be gone long, don't expect me to update for a long while. I just don't have the time. Just finishing up some unfinished material I had laying around with some free time that should have gone to studying, but, I digress. Here is your damned chapter. Thanks to stuka529 for his contributions to this chapter, he is running an RP for Our Crusade still so if you want to join, go do so.

I understand that the Gate Community is starting to die off. It's to be expected, I knew this would happen eventually, so I'll continue to work as long as I have inspiration, material, and a base that wants more work from me. As per stuka's writing style, I kept most of the cursing – I think it fits Mason's character here quite a bit. This is a slightly twisted variation on stuka's personal piece he gave me over the summer, so, hope he likes it. Hope all you like it.

Good day to you all and a few answers to the recent reviews that are long overdue.

New Universe Returns, this story isn't on hiatus, just everything is really slow with updating. I don't like stopping on hiatus because more often than not, those stories never get continued. Thanks on the ROTC thing, I'm trying to get commissioned but that will take time. It's highly competitive.

Karaya 2, buddy! Hope you're doing well. I checked up with you recently so we should be on the same page for the most part. Keep writing man.

Nothing more, nothing less. You all have a good day. Read and Review!

…

 **["Giant Monsters"]**

 **[Autumn 2016]**

…

 _ **"Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten."**_ **– Neil Gaiman, author of the novel "Coraline," Published Book: 2006**

…

It's rare for private documents to be published; sure leaks and hacks in the days of the dot-coms and the Digital Era have made documents and privacy less personal and far more publicly read; the trend develops caution, fear, and anxiety for those that value their personal privacy and gives birth to wonderment and drama for those that embrace this age of encompassing technology and interconnectivity. It's a great shift from just a half a century before when television and radio were still in their infancy.

Now, take that advancements of the twenty-first century and bring it back to the Dark Ages – no Internet, no signal. No social media and no electricity in the field. The only communication is by paper mail and literature is spilled into that of vocal memory and the odd lines of an old tongue on harsh wax paper developed from the materials of the land. Written by voice or spoken by quill, stories were personal and changed based on individual interpretation. Now take those modern advancements from the twenty-first century once again; bring your modern tools of battle and lifestyle.

The method of telling tales once again change and the interpretation along with it. Digital or otherwise, the medium from which it is told – the story will be told. Even the private journals of the soldiers of the Special Region Task Force; those find hefty bargains on the forums on the Internet, where the scope of what the warfighters see and feel when they make landfall in another world. A land no civilian may go, but where warriors catalog their victories in paper and now, by laptop or mobile phone. Some prefer paper though – like Staff Sergeant Mason, US Army Liaison to the Japanese Self Defense Force specializing in non-Latin derived languages.

 **["Journal Entry #28, taken from the pages of one Staff Sergeant Carter L. Mason's journal. United States Army, designated translator for JSDF-led Reconnaissance Team Three."]**

 **["Dated October? 2016."]**

 **["Subject: Giant BLEEP Monsters"]**

I can't sleep. Not after what I just saw in the last couple of hours and over the course of the last few days. And I don't think anyone else has fallen asleep yet, either. At least, it doesn't seem like anyone is getting sleep.

Now, we were told to expect a lot of weird shit, before we arrived in the Special Region. Because during the attack on Ginza, they recovered the bodies of all kinds of shit that have no right being real. Orcs, animals shaped like humans, and even fucking dragons.

But those dragons were small and you could bring them down easily enough with an ant-aircraft gun or otherwise.

Not too long ago, we saw a giant fucking dragon; I swear, as big as Godzilla himself, tearing ass all over a forest several miles outside the village of Coda, the first trade post along some dirt trail that I guess you could call a highway in the Middle Ages.

I'm not exaggerating. This thing was fucking huge! It was breathing an ungodly amount of fire all over the forest; and the worst part was that at the center of that inferno. Apparently, there had been another settlement behind those trees, right in the middle of that damned forest.

Poor bastards. It makes me wonder if that dragon was just attacking them for kicks, or they actually did something to piss it off. Kuwahara remarked that seeing that beast was like watching a damn giant monster film. But in those films, I always remember seeing the military getting their asses kicked by Godzilla. So what does that mean if we end up having to fight that freak of nature?

It means we'll be so totally and completely fucked. I actually said that to everyone and Wataru pointed out that we had one of those LAMs with a one-ten mike-mike; I remember scoffing at that. I mean, what the hell is one rocket launcher going to do against something that big? It was the size of like, three whales or something! These Jap guys, as much as I love them – they really didn't understand how bad the odds were stacked against us.

I remember walking through the ruins of woods nearby – bunch of destroyed trees and blackened earth. The fire had been so hot, the ash and burnt soil turned into glass at some points. The debris would crunch up under the weight of my boots as I scanned the area after that monster had left. It was a goddamn massacre; the only way I could compare it to in terms of death toll was the cost of war or natural disasters. It was just wrong – that creature just wasn't natural.

I think I could almost feel the heat from the fires that were burning the forest before we arrived and set up a watch. Correction, I can still feel the tingling of those fires; it makes my damn skin crawl. And we were like ten or twenty miles away from it! In fact, some parts of the woods are still up in flames. We don't have the manpower to put out the flames and the best way I could describe the actual material of the fire was like lava, or napalm. It just keeps burning – even after that storm that had blown through the night.

Also, I can't even see the stars anymore, because there is so much damn smoke in the air. I heard Lieutenant Frost coughing up his lungs over breakfast this morning. Must not be used to fires – heard the guy was from the New England area. Unlike Cali, the Eastern Seaboard doesn't get seasonal fires I guess.

Now, it's about a half hour since that giant fucker took off. And for some unexplainable reason, that thing can fly through the air despite how huge it is. It shouldn't be physically possible – at least from how I can understand aeronautics. It's like a bumblebee, too big for its own damn wings. It still flies apparently. At least it's gone now. And thank God, too. If it tries to attack us, we won't stand a chance in Hell. Preferably, I think we would have better chances against the devil rather than that big flying-fire dick.

We knew there was a village in the middle of that forest, but our orders are to wait until morning before we head in there as a precaution; just so that we can make sure the dragon is gone and the flames have finally died out. When Lieutenant Itami told us this, I reminded him that there was a village right in the middle of those flames. Lieutenant Frost, damn frosty shipmate wasn't much a help either. Man of few words and a bit of a dick too. Then, Itami told me that we don't have any equipment to fight off a forest fire, and that if we went down there, we would probably die too. At least, if I died trying to save whoever had been stuck in that inferno last night, I might feel better about myself right now. I feel like shit.

I know we couldn't do anything to save anyone down there. Honestly, that doesn't make me feel better about it at all. I hate being up here, doing nothing, while there is an entire town below, in those woods, being scorched. People are dying or dead in that fire, right now. I can imagine what'll happen when we head down there; tomorrow morning. We'll go down to that forest village, and find it totally burnt to the ground. We'll see the barely recognizable remains of some civilians that were trying to get away – some will be burnt beyond human recognition or whatever species they are. The ground might be covered in blackened glass. The air is going to be thick with smoke and the smell of burnt flesh. There won't be a single house left standing. And if anyone managed to survive that inferno, they are going to be blaming us for not being quick enough to save them. Some United Nations Peacekeeping Force. So much for being the Greatest Fighting Force on Earth. We still can't find a Godzilla, or whatever that fucking dragon thing is.

Honestly, I never thought that I would be wanting to rescue anyone out here. Most people signed up to join the SR campaign because they wanted to get revenge and justice against those fuckers that attacked Ginza. And now, here we are, watching as the residents of this poor world burn in front of us.

I can't wait until we finally get down there. I'm not trying to be some big shot hero. I don't want to become the next 'Itami'. I just want to help people. They aren't from Earth, but they are still people. I think I saw that for the first time while we were in Coda Village. And all those people that were burnt alive probably had nothing to do with what happened at Ginza. I don't think they deserved this fate, honestly, no one deserves it.

Maybe at a later date, I'll think of a real, honest reason why someone deserves to be burned alive. The Roman guys that attacked Ginza were child killers and deserve Death. Burned alive, well, I'd have to think about it.

I'm hoping like Hell that we can find some way to kill that fucking dragon, before this happens again. If that thing actually finds Coda Village, then all those poor villagers are good as dead too. It'll be a real nightmare if it actually attacks Alnus. We need to find a way to put it down. Fast.

...Well, I've written down everything that's been bothering me tonight. I still don't feel tired enough to sleep. It doesn't matter, I guess.

I'll get plenty of sleep when I'm dead.

 **["Subject: Giant BLEEP Monsters"]**

…

 _ **"I work to support my hobby, so if you ask me which I'd choose, my job or my hobby? My hobby takes priority."**_ **– First Lieutenant Itami Youji, Commanding Officer of Recon Team Three, JGSDF Ranger and Officer, 2016**

…

 _ **PRIORITY EMAIL:**_

 _Alnus Command,_

 _Final mission notice on deployment of Reconnaissance Team Three of the Special Region Task Force finds the scouting mission to be something of a success. Intervention was kept to a minimum but the operation still managed to fall apart fast. We ended up shifting an entire population from their original residence because of an encounter with an identified Delta-type Specimen of unexpected proportions._

 _Working with the Japanese Self Defense Force on this operation, I found their service members to be amicable and acceptable personnel for the campaign ahead. They know what they're doing and they can handle themselves, though, I hold my reservations about some of their members including First Lieutenat Itami Youji, the operational commander of RCT3. He shows a level of competency that I can respect but at other times is absolutely clueless. I agree with the assessments of his superiors how this, how do I put this, "man-child," or his nickname, "otaku," survived becoming a SDF Ranger. Special Forces doesn't seem to be in his nature, and yet he shows a capability in leading his subordinates and succeeding in the heat of combat through the stress of battle, I can give him that. He makes a decent field commander – not exactly a fan of his personality but those are just details. He'll get the job done and his publicity position is a boon for any future issues we might have in terms of Public Relations. He's honest to a fault and that may make him a threat to national security and operational security in the field, however, as long as nothing bad is handled on our part – we shouldn't have any problems._

 _There is no reason to fear if we have nothing to hide, obviously. Anyhow, I've had my roll through here. The Special Region is interesting. You saw my reports on the calligraphy and the Stonehenge-type structures in the surrounding forests. The refugees are a problem we'll have to solve on a different day. At least we gave that dragon a good whooping. Any less firepower and we would have been screwed, I know you've seen the tapes but still – that thing was something else. It was absolutely terrifying. The thirty mike just bounced off the damn thing like we were firing butter rounds. Make note to prioritize explosives and penetrators against the more powerful beasts in this world for future accounts – they'll help a lot._

 _Blackburn, good luck out there, man. I've run my stay dry – I'm reporting back to Yokosuka tomorrow. Good luck on the campaign man, next time you're in Boston, you and Lin hit me up for a few drinks. Take care mate._

 _Most respectfully,_

 _Lieutenant Daniel Frost,_

 _RCT3 Logistics, Special Region Task Force, United States Navy_

…

 **[Participants]**

" **stuka529, RiptideZ"**


End file.
